


Black Sails

by Xetera



Series: Dream SMP Angst [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depression, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Emotional Manipulation, Internal Monologue, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xetera/pseuds/Xetera
Summary: Tommy is alone with his thoughts. His thoughts aren't good.-TW: Suicidal Ideation
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Dream SMP Angst [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078583
Kudos: 52





	Black Sails

**Author's Note:**

> Ventfic I wrote in a pretty bad place. I'm better enough to post it. Please do not read this if it could harm/trigger you.

"Wouldn't it be funny if you jumped?"

It's a buzzing, pesky thought, nipping in the back of his mind like poison. Tommy isn't sure when it started, when the idea went from genuine humor to a morbid observation. The thought opened itself raw one day and made itself at home, not a care in the world about overstaying its welcome.

"Wouldn't it be funny how no one would notice, not a soul in the world would see you crumple up or melt away into nothing?"

The sound of the words is so vivid in his head, Tommy refuses to believe they aren't being spoken to him, whispered like the chilling commands of a sick, unfeeling conscience.

"Would they think twice about your limp, deflated corpse, or would they be more concerned about picking up the mess you made? Fishing your netherite out of the lava? Scraping your remains off the grass and throwing what's left of you out to sea?"

He stares, slack-faced into the distance. His body is still there, obviously, clothes against his skin, wind on his face, but none of it registers. It doesn’t feel that way. Nothing feels any "way" at all. He's watching someone else's body from afar, listening in and prodding at their brain, seeing himself sitting numb and expressionless. It's almost humorous; Tommy did have a good sense of humor. Someone made him feel that way once. Dream makes him feel that way now- appreciated.

"You have nothing to be afraid of. Pain for a second, only a second. You've felt pain before, nothing you've been through can be worse than this. It's warm and empty there, surely. All you have to do is let go."

How nice it would be to let go, lift the painful memories off his conscience. The sick feeling in his gut while he looked into Tubbo's eyes and saw nothing, gone like it never happened. The crippling loneliness of wandering out here in the middle of nowhere with only his worst moments to haunt him, extinguished like a flame. The pressure of an entire nation's eyes on him since he was a child, and still is, all gone without a trace.

That's the part that sticks with him- he's still a child by most standards of the word. It's not his fault that he had to dress up for war, young and bright-eyed, not a clue what the cost of fighting was, how it would sap the light from his eyes. Tommy should have had a future, a life ahead of him. The notion of having a future hasn't crossed his mind in a long while.

Dream made sure of that.

"Is it Dream you're afraid of? What he'll think? He'll be fine, better even. He won't have to suffer being your friend. He won't have to be there for you like he always is. And the rest of them? You know they wouldn't bat an eye."

Dream _has_ been the only one looking after him. He has to bear the burden of dealing with Tommy, who's nothing but dead weight; he's a naive, annoying thorn in his side. All Dream has done is give him everything, any pain he's caused is something he earned- something he _deserved_.

Tommy wishes he could forget how much his presence dampens the room, the way people look at him with pity. He doesn't need pity; pity is like spit on his face. He needs rest.

"Just go for it. It's so much easier this way. You won't even remember how you got there. You'll never remember anything again."

While considering it, _really_ considering it, he hears the rustling of someone nearing his tent. Tommy turns to see Dream, the looming figure that he is.

"You looked lost in thought," Dream says. He squats down, smiling mask staring back with interrogative intent. "Everything all right?"

The hand he's placed on Tommy's shoulder is boring into his skin. He blinks away the possessiveness of it, inviting it as a friendly gesture.

"Of course. Just... great."


End file.
